Chapter 51 - The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer (Patreon)

I watched Mason and Abby as the Grandmaster studied my apprentice’s progress. She had been practicing for the last hour, and it showed. Her movements were slow, her body ran with sweat, and the strain was evident. Despite the crisp air, she was still overheated from her exertions. Worse, we had missed the meal, so she was struggling while hungry as well. I was proud to notice that Snowy’s work ethic had begun to rub off on my apprentice. She hadn’t complained once, though we had worked her beyond even my unreasonable expectations.

By this point, I had become so familiar with [Meditation] poking at my mind that I almost missed the new sensation. This time it wasn’t [Meditation], it was [Teacher of Skills] that was acting up, but it wasn’t pushing for my awareness. No, this sensation was new. It was the feeling of the Skill growing and developing. Once I determined the cause of the unique sense - how I had no clue - I began to drop into [Meditation] to investigate the new effect. The moment my attention shifted away from Abby and Mason, the Skill calmed once again. Turning my mind back to the others, I could feel it once again moving and changing. This made sense. My focus was on determining where Abby was succeeding and failing with [Throwing] and what Mason was focused on when she lobbed her daggers. If I could determine where he was focused, I might be able to help her improve. Or at least, I might be able to determine why I had such dismal performance when throwing things. Even without the Skill, if I could actually hit reasonably often with thrown weapons, [Meditation’s] ability to slow time would improve my combat effectiveness. Not having a mild scratch feeling like a killing stroke - the other effect of the slowed-down world - would mean I could lean into [Meditation] while fighting instead of only using the barest edge of the Skill.

“I’m done, I can’t do anymore!” Abby nearly wailed as her throwing arm visibly shook.

Mason shifted from his nearly invisible state and startled Abby from his closeness. Nodding while rubbing his chin, he said, “Nah, you were done about a half’n hour ago. Need to work on that, can’t be practicin’ like that.”

I hunched into my shoulders, trying not to laugh at Abby’s outrage. When she turned to look to me for support, I managed to reign in my amusement. By the look of betrayal that she gave me, I failed to hide it well enough. That was one failing of [Acting] that some advanced or mutated versions of the Skill offered. Without mental preparation, you would be left with your normal behavior. Some of the Skill that nobles used would allow for a ‘default’ emotional state when surprised. This could leave the person seeming flat or dull at times. However, it was still preferable to being surprised and acting impulsively in a charged social situation. It could also give a seemingly preternatural calm during combat.

My attempt to prod [Teacher of Skills] was useless. It felt like trying to see the back of your eyes by turning them around. That was doomed to failure from the start. Still, it made sense that trying to understand how others learned a Skill or how they taught it would help me improve [Teacher of Skills], instead of merely trying to rely on teaching alone. Obvious in retrospect, but it ran counter to my natural inclinations to depend on others. I was suddenly far more eager for my planned training session for Abby. It would be her first attempt at training someone else.

The sound of bells clanging from the upper halls of the fortress drew my attention back to the moment. I was trying to focus on Skills and training to avoid thinking about Snowy. Despite my confidence in her Skills and the way the Baron protected her, I was only too familiar with how chaotic a fight could be. All it would take was one stray crossbow bolt to end her life.

Despite my pessimism, it seemed my worries were unwarranted.

Riding through the fort’s mustering yard was Snowy and a troop of the Baron’s elite guards. Her horse was a huge mare, social standards required a mare instead of a stallion, but the horses’ size had to match the rider. I was distracted by the troop marching back with enemies in tow strung out on a rope with the end tied to Snowy’s saddle horn. There had to be some kind of political statement being made with that - maybe that she had personally captured them, evidence of assistance to the contrary? - but whatever the symbolism, it distracted me for only a moment.

Snowy’s headpiece was a dull iron full-helm and didn’t match the brigandine of small polished plates covered in a painted design that looped over one shoulder. She had shown me the lighter armor that had been commissioned for her when her plate wouldn’t be appropriate, and the helm had matched. Running my eyes over her, I could see her shoulders shifting in a practiced rhythm.

She was using her Skill to heal.

Passing off the rope to an attendant, Snowy levered herself off her horse and started toward the fort’s inner area. When she noticed me in the back of the crowd, she shifted direction as she approached. Her eyes sparkled within her helm, and I turned to match her pace. Behind us followed Sir Wincome and a female elite who was assigned to guard Snowy. We hadn’t been introduced.

Given that Snowy’s follower played the stoic unseeing guard better than Sir Wincome, I wasn’t eager to make her acquaintance. Eating in the fortress so often had given me a list of people who would watch me from the corner of their eyes. I noted those who were friendly in-person and calculating from afar. Others seemed uninterested in me at all times, I was simply one more person in their world; they had to work around to do their job. She was one of the later, and I much preferred it that way. Oddly, Sir Wincome’s dislike stemmed from my sudden rise in station, but he seemed to harbor me no personal ill will. It was still odd to me that that I was more comfortable with that kind of disregard than those who disliked me for my profession alone.

During the march through the halls, Snowy was silent. Still, I noticed that she had moved closer as we approached the more heavily defended family wing. My apprentice, quiet until now, coughed to draw our attention. Flicking her eyes between Snowy and me, she gave a half abbreviated bow then returned Snowy’s covered smile. Looking to me, she said, “I’ll, uh, be in your office. Sir Wincome can guard me,” before looking to Snowy’s guard for some reason.

I tried not to be obvious, but I glanced between Snowy’s guard and Abby, trying to work out what silent message had been passed. Nothing came to mind, but when I saw Sir Wincome’s smirk - quickly hidden - I realized that it was at my expense. I gathered my apprentice was giving me time alone with Snowy. That, or she wanted to avoid dealing with the Baron after the last meeting. Nodding the two away, Snowy and I turned and continued deeper into the family wing.

I’d assumed that her approach in the mustering yard signaled that she wanted me to join her when she reported to her father. Instead, we turned away from the stairs that lead to the Baron’s office. The guards stationed in the hall eyed me as we moved through the mostly silent wing. Given the blatant hints, I was prepared for Snowy’s sudden lunge when we entered her private quarters. Yanking the mismatched helm off, Snowy drove her lips into my own. For a time, I lost myself in her lips, only drawing back for air when Snowy’s guard coughed behind us as she stared at the far wall.

With a giggle, Snowy turned to her guard and gently made a shooing motion, “Sorry Melony, I won’t need you for the rest of the day. Thanks!”

The kiss distracted me for a moment, but I quickly gathered my wits when I looked at Snowy’s now uncovered face. Running along one side of her face was a puckered line, scabbed over and healing.

“Snowy!” I said in surprise, grabbing her chin in one hand as I turned her face. Lifting her jaw, I could see that the blade had struck frighteningly close. The wound clipped through her jawbone and slide along the ridge of her cheekbone in a rising curve. I wasn’t worried about the scar. We had tested her healing, and it was easily capable of clearing away even scar tissue with her active use. No, I felt cold chills when I realized how close Snowy came to being killed. Her healing Skill wouldn’t matter in the slightest if she was already dead.

When I realized that this was how the wound looked after having passed through her missing helm and her actively healing it during her return, I felt sick to my stomach. In an oddly floating state of mind, I realized that I cared for Snowy a great deal more than I thought. Seeing the proof of her near death, I was forced to contemplate a world without my Snowy, and it was a far darker place. I barely noticed Snowy’s guard leaving while I hovered over the noble, gently poking and prodding her wound to see its extent. I found myself staring at the wound as the puckered scar turned to irritate skin while the scabbed over wound smoothed into scar tissue.

When most of the wound was gone, I realized that I had been holding Snowy close and staring at her injury as she carefully used her Skill’s active effect. When I noticed my preoccupation and the odd stance I held her in, she smiled and took a deep breath as if too clear the meditative breath from her lungs. Straightening up, she stretched and then dropped the tip of her chin on the top of my head and held me close. The position was just as awkward as before, but for me this time, instead of her. She gave a gentle sniff while she rested her head on my own. She wasn’t crying, the sound was too dry for that, but I could tell that she was holding back her tears.

Without looking at me, she said, “You know. I love how you lose yourself. You get distracted and focused on something, and it becomes your whole world.”

I was at a loss for how to respond. The few relationships that I had quickly ended because of the very reason Snowy just gave. I would get lost in my work, distracted about an idea, and suddenly discover that my partner felt abandoned and ignored. Instead of speaking and upsetting her, I decided to hug her a bit tighter. It was only then that I noticed that my arms were holding around her. Typically, she preferred to be on the outside of any hug, holding me to her. I was comfortable with both positions, so I hadn’t given it much thought, but it seemed to loom large in my mind now.

Stroking her chin gently across my head, the motion uncomfortable but oddly endearing, she continued, “I was annoyed at first. You would ignore me.”

She shook the idea away with a tilt of her head, the motion hindered by our embrace, “I would say something, and you wouldn’t even hear me. We walked through that forest for ten minutes before realizing you hadn’t heard a thing I said, you were so distracted. Later, I realized that it was just the way you were. You weren’t trying to be mean like the tribe. It’s just you.”

Snickering again, she continued, “Though, once I’ve got your attention. I’ve got it.”

Again, all I had was silent confusion. I didn’t disagree with anything Snowy said. She was right. It was the way my mind worked. I would like to pretend it was because of my upbringing and the disconnect I had with my often absent family, or flatter myself with claims of brilliance and lofty thoughts. I even had some evidence that my [Meditation] Skill made it worse and that it wasn’t entirely my fault. But in truth, I was easily distracted by new ideas while also obsessively focused when trying to solve a problem. Neither excused my behavior.

Pulling back, Snowy kissed me passionately, the world falling away in the feel of her lips and the taste of her tongue. Even the slight smell of sweat on her skin was like ambrosia in my aroused but confused state. When we drew apart, Snowy smirked at me, the upturn of her lips saying she had won an argument that I hadn’t even known about.

“Then we talked. When I told you about my childhood, you didn’t just listen, you thought about how I must have felt and tried to understand what it was like. You were trying to work out how to train me, but it wasn’t just about the Skill,” though here she snorted as she gave me a look, “even if we both know how fascinated you are by your work.”

I frowned for a moment wanting to deny it but couldn’t help but give a rueful smile in agreement, “Snowy, I, uh,” I said, confused as to where this conversation was going. My emotions were rumbling around as I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t already far too attached. I had been deluding myself into thinking that we were not going to get further involved. I was lying to myself, thinking that we could kiss and enjoy each other’s company but then pull away in time. What had first started with spontaneous passion, was now built on a tumbled knot of emotions. We were both captured in a trap and unable - no, the truth was unwilling - to escape. Despite my new nobility, I didn’t match her tenuous position in society. I would only drag Snowy down in the coming confrontations. I was more burden than support. Worse, tying myself to Snowy was a horrible idea for my own wellbeing.

Staring into Snowy’s eyes, I could see she knew it as well. Our personalities were very different. We lived in different financial and social worlds. Nothing but pain could come from us being together.

Reaching under her left arm, Snowy pulled the hooks that held her brigandine armor closed in the front. This exposed the unflattering underpadding. Shrugging her shoulders, the metal sections slide free and clanked into a messy clump behind her. She reached for the tunic, but before she began the cumbersome process of freeing herself from the thick cotton, I scrambled to help her free. In a blur of kisses, I tore off her padding as she tried to work free my own shirt. Shoving through the outer waiting room, we nearly tumbled into Snowy’s private room, where we lost ourselves in each other.